A multi-genre talent and OG supporter of End Overdose, the Los Angeles-based producer, instrumentalist, and vocalist HVDES has capitalized on years of momentum with her debut album: How To Kill A God. It’s a project as manifold and nuanced as the creator behind it. Bass music, acoustic ballads, and post-hardcore riffing all cohere together on its carefully assembled, puzzle-like structure. The album also reflects HVDES’ consistent vulnerability on public platforms as she grapples with addiction, metaphysics, and a pervasive societal soul sickness.
With How To Kill A God finally out now, we spoke with HVDES for a discussion that traverses from the sanctity of artistic creation to human nature and philosophy by way of Haruki Murakami. We also launched a giveaway for her debut live show – head over to our Instagram for more details.
End Overdose: Congratulations on your debut project! After years of experimentation and evolution across your singles, how does it feel to have your first cohesive body of work out in the world?
HVDES: It feels really good firstly because I’ve worked for so long on it that it’s nice to feel like I can sort of freeform work on other things with less pressure, but also because I feel like this last year has been so intense for me emotionally and put me to the test in a lot of ways that it really encapsulates the journey I went through writing all of these songs, and the journey I have gone through in sobriety as well.
EO: The album makes such an interesting link between live and electronic elements – there’s acoustic ballads, post-hardcore, and bass music among other genres. How do you approach blending these sounds in the context of an album?
H: I didn't initially set out to move across the spectrum of genres when writing the music, or even to write an album. I sort of just decided one day after a few songs about the same experiences started to feel cohesive and went from there. I went through a lot over the last year and I feel like the majority of it was truly just me trying to cope, understand, to articulate, and to keep pushing forward. Music has always been that for me. My process now is very intuitive; I try to engage with each piece as it is, allowing it to unfold naturally and become what it needs to be. This idea of "showing up" for the creative process, trusting that mindfulness and tuning into inspiration will guide the way. When I impose my expectations and the piece evolves differently, I usually find myself frustrated and ultimately disconnected from the work's true essence.
Creation, to me, is a sacred channel to something beyond our physical senses. Embracing an intuitive process, allows the work to flow freely from the subconscious. Later, in the refinement stage, I can step into a more structured, analytical mode—what some might call "business mode"—to bring cohesion and polish to the record as a whole. It's about finding the perfect balance between raw, intuitive creation and methodical refinement.
The album underwent numerous phases, many of them extremely frustrating which sort of reflects this pursuit of balance between those two things. Many songs were left behind, not aligning with the core ideas and messages. And on the other side of that, some tracks evolved over time, with lyrics changing months after their initial composition to better resonate with my current state of mind.
EO: How do you bridge metaphysical concepts with your music and lived experience?
H: A lot of the writing that I do is sort of me having a conversation with myself. Lots of stream of consciousness venting that then turns into a puzzle which I then structure into a song.
Metaphysical thought and philosophy have served as both a refuge and a lens through which I’ve navigated many of my feelings of derealization and dissociation. These concepts tend to challenge the fabric of identity, making me acutely aware of my place—or lack thereof—in a world that often feels foreign. There’s a quote in Kafka On The Shore, that I love, where the narrator describes a "sandstorm" that blurs the boundaries of reality. The sandstorm, in this context, represents the overwhelming and disorienting nature of my experiences, as it obscures clarity and creates a sense of being lost in swirling thoughts and feelings, which is just as real as a physical storm.
I find myself caught in that a lot, sort of grappling with the confusion of what’s real and what’s a figment of my imagination, or a manifestation of fear, insecurity, trauma, etc. It just really resonates deeply with my experiences of feeling disconnected from the world around me, sort of like I’m watching life unfold from a distance. Being on the spectrum intensifies these feelings. There is a constant awareness of being different, of not fitting neatly into the molds that society has established. This struggle for identity in a world that often seems to demand conformity can lead to a sense of isolation, which I feel like drove a lot of my addictive patterns and desperation to escape to anywhere else but where and who I was/am.
My fascination with history provides a backdrop for these existential thoughts. The imagery of significant events, such as the fall of Babylon or the aftermath of Hiroshima are powerful, dark, poetic reminders of humanity’s struggles, sickness, truths, flaws, and transformations. The chaos of civilizations crumbling, the loss of identity, and the search for meaning amidst destruction, as well as the growth and rebirth that comes from full surrender, fire, and ash are sort of personified and tangible parallels to the feelings I experience daily. Biblical stories, with their themes of exile and redemption, sort of mirror my own quest for understanding in a world in which I often feel like a stranger.
I kind of see it as this weird sort of melting pot of metaphysical inquiry and historical reflection... Which I tend to find both peaceful and uncomfortable. The philosophical exploration of existence offers a way to articulate my feelings of dissociation, while the imagery of the past creates a space where those feelings can live and breathe, but also somewhere I can leave them and move forward with intention and awareness. It’s alchemy in its truest form. This dichotomy of the search for identity within the chaos of existence continues to shape my understanding of myself and the world around me every day.
EO: The record is deeply honest lyrically (i.e. “Nosebleed”) – are there any challenges in the process of opening up to such an intimate level? Or is it more cathartic than anything?
H: "Nosebleed" as a pretty organic one for me. Sometimes, when I’m writing, I hit roadblocks and need to step back and let the song breathe, but this one just flowed from start to finish. On some days, it’s easy to accept the love and support from others and recognize that my journey resonates with those who have faced similar struggles. However, there’s a common misconception that once you overcome addiction, you’ve 'beaten' it completely and you’re “healed.” And in ways, you go along with that narrative because it’s important to inspire hope in others who are struggling, and it feels good for people who had lost faith in you for many years to once again find that trust and faith in you. It feels almost like you’re letting them down again by not subscribing to this heroic tale of “finding salvation.” The reality is that, while I’ve made significant progress, those parts of me are always present, lying dormant, and I do a lot of work to keep them that way.
This song was kind of a conversation with myself when I found myself trapped in those feelings and thoughts of imposter syndrome, sort of oscillating between the parts of me that are hopeful and optimistic, filled with faith in love and connection, and the parts steeped in nihilism, anger, pain, and loneliness. It’s hard sometimes not to get stuck in that feeling of self pity because I am still fucked up inside and don’t “deserve” that praise for functioning like a normal human. So I guess in the chorus it was sort of an open ended question into the universe wondering if there’s an easier way out. Like is there another option? You know what I mean? Because both paths are challenging in their own right. But I guess ultimately, it comes down to choosing the legacy you want to leave behind.
I wanted this song to express that often overlooked reality of recovery—not just the triumphs, but also the “demons,” for lack of a better word, that never fully dissipate. In a sense they do, but it’s still always there, you know? Even though I’m in a stable place now in my sobriety, those darker aspects of myself and wounds remain a part of my life and my story. It’s sort of a melancholic expression of hope and a desire to be able to look back down the road and feel a sense of gratitude that I held on for myself.
EO: You have your live debut at The Echo on August 16h – how do you anticipate the shift from the decks to the microphone?
H: I am absolutely scared shitless. The album is very vulnerable and raw and I just want the live set to be very intimate and feel like a completely different experience than the more lighthearted and fun nature of my DJ sets. I always get really bad stage fright. I am actually quite an introverted person and performing is really difficult for me. It’s really scary to be in front of people, especially doing something so intensely personal and having no idea if they’re even going to like it or care. Which is funny considering I am a performer. But it’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time and I think that this album gives me the perfect opportunity to blend the two aspects of my project into a cohesive experience while allowing each type of performance to shine in its own way.
EO: You’ll also have End Overdose at the live debut – what does that collaboration mean to you?
H: Working with End Overdose is something that extends beyond music and art, but deeply into my personal life as a recovering addict. I have lost so many friends and family members to this disease. I have been to more funerals than I can count, and I’ve never even been to a wedding. Crazy, right?
One of the things I struggled with a lot was opioid addiction. I was being sold fentanyl under the guise of it being Oxycontin, and I had no idea that was what I was doing until I was already completely dependent.
On a personal level, I understand what this disease does to people. What it did to me, and how sometimes I literally have no idea how I’m still here. I had no idea what I was doing, no frame of reference.. I’ve overdosed multiple times and, by some weird miracle, I’m still here. I don’t necessarily believe in some sort of “everything happens for a reason” idea of predetermined destiny, but I do believe that we all have the choice to give reason to the wildly confusing landscape of grief, pain, and loss by showing up for ourselves and our community in a way that, even on the most micro level, changes the world.
This is an epidemic. Opioid overdose related deaths are the leading cause of death in the US for our age group. That is a terrifying statistic. I don’t think people realize how much danger they are in when they are doing relatively normal party drugs. This thing is not just reserved for the stereotypical drug addict on skid row. This affects all of us. It’s really easy to feel powerless sometimes over this problem because it’s become so massive, and there are so many layers to it. If you’re not a legislator or someone who has sway on a larger scale, it can feel daunting and insurmountable. But, I think End Overdose is amazing because it empowers the individual to take a step that is within their power to help be a part of the solution by getting honest, de-stigmatizing these conversations and moving toward a safer community overall. We don’t have to keep burying our friends. And I think getting excited about overdose prevention and response education is such an incredible way to share resources and be of service to our loved ones and the rave scene (even beyond that). I don’t think it gets much more PLUR than that.
EO: Is there anything else you’d like to add?
H: I love you guys and I love everything you do and it’s been an incredible journey working together over the past few years and seeing people get excited about overdose prevention. I’d like to use my platform any way I can to help de-stigmatize these sorts of conversations because understanding the reality of this thing as an epidemic, being open and honest about how we can help, and responding accordingly allows for solutions to be found and for less lives to be lost. This is my mission, and remembering that by working with organizations like you guys makes a lot of the internal back and forth worth it.
~FOLLOW HVDES ON INSTAGRAM AND X + STREAM HER NEW ALBUM HERE~